


Beginnings [The Flower Shop AU 4/?]

by deanobanion



Series: The Flower Shop AU [4]
Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boardwalk Empire AU, F/M, Gen, The Flower Shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 07:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3200666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanobanion/pseuds/deanobanion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>November, 1921: An interview and a celebration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginnings [The Flower Shop AU 4/?]

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Flower Shop AU: A post S2 AU where Angela survives the events of 2.10, and she, Tommy, and Richard leave A.C. for Chicago. All other major events in 2.11 and 2.12 remain unchanged.

_November, 1921_

Dean took a few steps back from the counter, his right hand cradling his chin, staring. Angela stood next to him, still, her hands clasped in front of her and her eyes darting from his face to her work on the counter. She was trying to analyze his furrowed brow. _Interested or critical?_

Her “interview” for a position at the shop was simple: “Make something nice.” It wasn’t a difficult or even specific enough task for her to think it was a serious test, but it was still something she was relatively unfamiliar with. Besides, she didn’t need much of a push to run a little anxious.

“It’s pretty good,” he said, finally. Angela bowed her head slightly, modestly, and smiled. She dropped her hands to her side and took a deep breathe, just now realizing she hadn’t been.

“Pretty good? It’s nicer than some of the stuff you make,” Hymie said. 

“Ah, what do you know?” Dean barked back. Hymie just shrugged. “You’re hired. There’s more to it, but you’ll learn.” 

“Thank you. I’m really excited to start,” Angela replied.

Dean put his hand on her shoulder, and gently guided her behind the counter. He backed up again to take in the sight of her there. “Right now, this is where I need you.” He held his hands in front of his vision and framed her. “Yeah, that pretty face will sell flowers. Grumpy over here scares everyone away.”

Hymie made a noise that sounded like “bah” and lit a cigarette. In her short time knowing him, Angela noticed that his primary mode of conversation, aside from snarky comments, was non-verbal. He was a master of annoyed looks, full shoulder shrugs, and pained vocalizations. He had introduced himself to her as Dean’s business partner “Earl Weiss” even though “Hymie” was the only thing Dean ever called him. She asked him what he did there, if he made floral arrangements too, and he had only laughed. Dean offered only slightly more of an answer: “He’s more involved with the money side of things.” 

As he smoked his cigarette Angela noticed the white crescents of his fingernails. They were clean; unlike his partner’s they had no telltale signs of working with soil, no stubborn dirt packed underneath.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to smoke up front during business hours? People need to walk in here and smell flowers.” Dean said, snatching the cigarette out of his mouth and putting it out on the floor. Hymie sighed and went to the back, muttering obscenities under his breath.

He turned his attention back to Angela, “When can you start?”

She knew this position wasn’t something she had earned herself. She had every confidence that she could do it well, but it was a thinly veiled favor to Viola. Frankly, Angela didn’t care. It was security. The O’Banions had already paid her more money than they had originally agreed on for the painting. “It’s so much better that we imagined,” Viola had said, between sips of tea. “You’re so talented.” She had certainly earned that. And with more customers coming to her from their word of mouth, she could quit working long hours at the restaurant and focus more on her art. She would be able to hire an actual baby sitter for Tommy instead of relying on Richard.

“Monday?” Angela said.

“Monday it is.”  
\--

“A toast to the newest member of the Schofield’s crew!” Dean yelled above the loud music, holding up a glass. Their group was seated around a small table at the edge of an overcrowded dance floor, and they were in very real danger of being trampled. Ten minutes in the club and Angela could already feel her makeup melting on her face.

“And the cutest,” Viola added after downing her drink in one swallow. She draped her arm around Angela and pulled her into a side hug, pressing her cheek against hers; her arm was warm and sweat-sticky across her back, bared courtesy of the elegant, beaded silver dress Viola had loaned her. She let go of her just as abruptly and Angela nearly fell out of her chair.

Viola had called her on the phone that evening, just after she got the job. “We need to celebrate,” she said. She took none of her excuses for an answer, and here they were.

Viola turned to Hymie who was currently looking around as if to confirm which exit would be easiest to wade toward, through the crowd of people, to freedom. “Aw, don’t worry. You’re cute too,” she pinched his cheek. He swatted her hand away.

She leaned across the table, now toward Dean. “You gonna dance with me, old man?”

“Well, of course,” he answered and they made their way onto the dance floor. She did most of the work, moving her body to the music, moving too much really. Dean danced confidently yet stiffly at her side. They were quite a sight. Angela would have felt a bit of second hand embarrassment, but the place was so full of people and things to look at, no one was really paying them any attention. 

“C’mon,” Angela looked up and Hymie was standing above her, offering her his hand with his head tilted toward the dance floor. Thankfully, he was a better dancer than the silly couple they came with. Soon Angela’s head was spinning from the loud music, frequent stops between songs to gulp down champagne, and the heat.

“I need a minute,” she said into Hymie’s ear, having to almost yell even as close to him as she was. He followed her off of the dance floor and out of a back door where people with the same idea were chatting, most in couples. He offered her a cigarette and she took it, his slicked back, black hair shinning blue in the moonlight. The cigarette and the air took some of her edge off. He didn’t talk just to fill the silence. She liked that.

They made their way back in when they had cooled down enough to find the crisp November air unbearable. As they walked toward their table Angela spotted the closet she had seen one of the workers bring coats into. A snap decision and she was leading Hymie in and locking the door behind them. She kissed him, pressing him into the wall between racks of fur coats and evening jackets.

“Well. Hello, Angela. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Don’t ruin it with your mouth now,” The champagne had given her confidence that she didn’t intend to be snapped out of.

His eyes found themselves on her hands as they hiked up her dress, and he mimicked locking his mouth with an imaginary key. She laughed and kissed him again, harder. He put his hands on her thighs and pulled her to him as she maneuvered him inside of her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Someone, presumably the coat check boy, jiggled the doorknob, first softly and then more frantically. They laughed.

When they made it back to their table Dean and Viola were there, sweaty, taking another drink break. Viola immediately pulled Angela down and began telling her about next weekend’s plans. Dean stared at Hymie, one eyebrow raised slightly.

“Cigarette break,” Hymie said nonchalantly and motioned for the waiter to bring the table another round.

\--

It was late, much later than she had intended it to be, when she made it home. She walked into the living room to find the Victrola playing a slow song very softly. Richard appeared at the doorway of his room.

“Tommy is asleep,” he said.

“I’m sorry, Richard. You didn’t have to stay up,” Angela said, hanging up her coat and taking off her shoes.

“I don’t sleep much. Hmm. At night.” Richard worked late nights at a speak on the South Side, or so he told her. “You deserve. To have fun.”

“So do you,” Angela answered. 

“Hn.” His gaze moved from her to the floorboards. She knew it meant he agreed, he just wasn't confident enough to say so right now. She was starting to know him a little better.

“What. Did you do?” he asked.

“I’ll show you,” Angela said, grabbing Richard’s hand. They danced slowly, Angela in her stockings, trying to remember some of the steps she learned that night.

“You have to come out with us sometime. You would like it.” They both knew that he probably wouldn’t. 

“Hmm. Sounds. Nice."


End file.
